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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238597">Remember you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_Legit/pseuds/Totally_Legit'>Totally_Legit</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>GOT7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>2Jae, AU, Beach Sex, Colors, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Painting, Smut, art?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:48:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,007</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totally_Legit/pseuds/Totally_Legit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All Jaebum meant to do was paint the sea. He ends up painting something very different.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Choi Youngjae/Im Jaebum | JB</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remember you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefCYJ/gifts">DefCYJ</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Now, this was a smut request by the lovely Ju, who then changed her mind and decided to write it into a whole ass fic herself.<br/><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846384/chapters/54602836">Read her work it's a full story</a><br/>I still decided to take up the original idea as a smutty OS, so that's why we're here.</p><p>Have fun</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <span>The waves are crashing in lazily, coast wind ruffles up Jaebum’s hair, which had grown so long he needs to put it in a tiny ponytail to not have it get in his eyes all the time. The sun is so bright he retreated below the canopy on the porch, so the flat white surface of his canvas wouldn’t blind him.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>It’s not white anymore, now that the midday sun has passed; and as the afternoon is processing his canvas is covered in colors of blue and green and yellow. But mostly blue. Jaebum’s eyes wander over the scenery in front of him. Blue sky, blue sea. The water surface is sparkling in the sunlight, white and colorful and his heart is aching with the knowledge that he won’t be ever able to copy the reflections to his canvas like that.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>It was the only thing that had kept him from throwing a tantrum when his parents told him to spend his summer by the sea with his wealthy grandparents. That at least he would be able to paint in peace, beautiful sceneries of beaches and dunes and fields. But now he feels frustrated even about that.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He rather would have gone to Seoul with Jinyoung, paint the city skyline, the highways, airplanes. Painting nature is boring and way too hard. It’s too organic, too lively, too round. Jaebum likes sharp edges, but he already painted the house twice from different angles and he really needs to challenge himself to something new if he wants to get into art school.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>So he dips his brush into the white paint with a sigh. The quiet of the beach, the absolute lack of noise pollution drove him mad, so he put on some headphones playing music on his phone. Considering how much of an introvert he is, one would expect that he hates places with a lot of people, but it’s actually quite the opposite. Jaebum loves the anonymity of the big city. Nobody cares, nobody looks at you twice. There’s only like 50 citizens in this stupid quiet beach village and everybody talks to everybody. It’s sickening.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Everybody talked to </span>
  <span>
    <em>him</em>
  </span>
  <span> when he arrived, but his closed-off nature eventually chased them all away… Well, </span>
  <span>
    <em>almost </em>
  </span>
  <span>all </span>
  <span>of them</span>
  <span>. Jaebum hums quietly while he dabs white foam on the crashing waves and </span>
  <span>as focused and lost in his thoughts as he is,</span>
  <span> he almost has a heart attack when his headphones suddenly get ripped off his ears. He yelps, curses. The spike of adrenaline has him swirl around awkwardly from his sitting position and </span>
  <span>it has him crash</span>
  <span> into a pair of legs right behind him.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He tangles in the cable as he does and the hands that grabbed his headphones give out under the pressure and with a painful noise they clatter to the wooden porch. Jaebum loses his balance, falls forward and means to catch himself, but the brush is still in his hand and he ends up smearing the </span>
  <span>paint</span>
  <span> everywhere before he manages to stop his fall, the brush </span>
  <span>tumbling out his hand,</span>
  <span> following his headphones to the ground and then rolling away from him, leaving a trail of white speckles.</span>
</p><p class="western"><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>If people say that the singing of birds is a pretty sound, or the soothing hiss of the waves that can be heard in the background now without his music, or even a soft piano melody… then these people never had the privilege of listening to Choi Youngjae’s laugh.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum is faced with a pair of thick, toned and most of all, very naked legs. His awkward sitting slash kneeling position has him right on the height of the fleshy thighs and the sound of his laugh and the gorgeously breathtaking, evenly tanned and smooth skin let him know exactly who his assaulter is without having to look up. He does it anyways, because he thinks that staring at someone’s legs for a prolonged period of time is very creepy, so he lets his eyes travel upwards. There’s prickling goosebumps running down his neck from the brief encounter, the melodic laughter and the proximity and the view not allowing his startled heart to calm down.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae is wearing one of his shorty shorts that he has for swimming and the hem sits so, so far up on his thigh, Jaebum considers it very indecent, showing off way too much of his bronze skin. And above it he’s simply thrown on an oversized tank top, the neckline sitting so, so low it exposes way too much of his equally tan chest and when he moves, more often than not Jaebum catches prolonged view of one of his nipples, a dark, soft speck enthroned on his toned pecks.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>I’m sorry, Hyung.” Youngjae finally says in the midst of his laughing fit, in the exact tone that conveys he isn’t really sorry, because he considers it way too funny to regret. Jaebum’s eyes find his face, the perfect finish to a body that beautiful with sparkling eyes and full lips that make his knees go weak. He grumbles, because that’s what he’s used to do, how he behaves with people and scrambles around for his brush. He often grunts at Youngjae and huffs and pouts, but for some reason he seems to never be appalled.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>The last person who could deal with his grumpy nature was </span>
  <span>Jinyoung’s tinder ‘friend’ </span>
  <span>Jackson, one more reason he’d rather gone to Seoul </span>
  <span>for a visit</span>
  <span>, but Youngjae, whenever he’s around is quite talented to make him forget about how he doesn’t want to be here.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>When he reaches for his paintbrush, he notices a white streak right below Youngjae’s left knee. He must have brushed him during his fall and he shifts uncomfortably and looks away. “You’re so jumpy.” Youngjae chuckles mildly when his laughter </span>
  <span>eventually</span>
  <span> eases and he </span>
  <span>
    <em>finally</em>
  </span>
  <span> takes a step away, increasing the distance from his edible thighs to Jaebum’s face.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>I was focused.” He snipes back and attempts to collect his headphones without making an even bigger mess. There’s sand and dust sticking to his paintbrush, rendering it useless before being cleaned thoroughly. “You were humming Twice.” Youngjae giggles and swings down to sit next to him in front of the painting.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum folds his now empty hands in his lap and avoids looking down at Youngjae’s legs, focusing on his canvas instead. The painting is almost done, yet it looks horribly unfinished. “That’s so pretty.” Youngjae comments, following his eyes. “So much better than cars and buildings.” Jaebum tenses. He hates it when people tell him what to draw. “You live by the beach.” He gives back defensively. “You see the ocean every day, what do you need a picture of it for.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae hums and for some reason scoots a little closer. “I also see Coco every day. And I still have plenty of pictures of her.” He murmurs conspiratorial then blinks up at him and grins. Jaebum avoids his eyes, but like magic his gaze is instead drawn to Youngjae’s knee and the streak of white against the brown skin. “I like pictures. They’re wonderful memories.” Youngjae speaks thoughtfully, casually as if he has no intentions. “Take a selfie with me, Hyung.” He then adds much louder. Jaebum’s nose scrunches involuntarily. Youngjae’s been pestering him for a photo for the past weeks and he just doesn’t understand why, </span>
  <span>turning him down time and time again</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Sure.” He answers casually and it catches Youngjae off guard. “Wh… really?” He blinks quickly and then sits up straight, a happy smile breaking out on his face, too pretty, even in a paradise of white beaches and blue oceans. He immediately reaches for his pocket and freezes. Jaebum feels a smirk pull on his own lips. He might be a little creepy, but since he scanned Youngjae’s appearance </span><span><em>thoroughly</em></span><span>, he’s quite aware that inside those scanty shorts there’s no pocket large enough that it holds a phone.</span></p><p class="western">“<span>Oh you!”, Youngjae yells and hits his shoulder. “You knew </span><span>I didn’t have</span><span> it!” He whines and pouts preciously. “How am I gonna remember you when summer is over?” He asks and it doesn’t feel as lighthearted as it should. Jaebum doesn’t answer. It’s not like they have to remember each other in the future, do they? </span><span>They’re just temporary acquaintances.</span></p><p class="western">“<span>If </span><span><em>I</em></span><span> could draw, I would draw you.” He lets him know, eyeing his painting again, the waves pathetic and still compared to the moving sea behind it. His fingers trail down his own thigh. It looks forbidden the way they flutter along the skin and he reaches the white stain below his knee, fiddling with it absently. So he </span><span><em>has </em></span><span>noticed it… Jaebum kneads his hands together.</span></p><p class="western">“<span>So that I have something to remember you by…” Youngjae’s voice is suddenly a lot quieter, a gentle hum between the sound of the waves and the wind playing with the sand. “You should paint me.” Jaebum’s chest contracts, a shudder runs down his back. He’s not sure what’s happening or why the way Youngjae speaks sounds so suggestive. “I…” He clears his throat. “I’m not good at portraits… I… only paint landscapes…” He explains weakly.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae huffs a breath. His fingers pick at the spot of paint. It has mostly dried but when he turns his hand around and they both look at it, some of the white rubbed off onto the pads of his fingers. “I didn’t mean paint a picture of me.” Why does his voice have to be so rough? “I mean… paint me.” The last two words come out in a breathless whisper and he looks up at him and as Jaebum instinctively turns his head he finds that their faces are closer than they’ve been before. Youngjae’s eyes are so big and so dark and his soft lips slightly parted.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He stuck around Jaebum from the very moment he first arrived. Complaining of boredom with no people his age around and way too excited about some company. They hung out casually at the beach, had casual conversations and played casual games of volleyball. Jaebum is sure that he kept his inappropriate appreciation of Youngjae’s skin and Youngjae’s naked legs and the curve of Youngjae’s neck to himself.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>But with him being that close and the air around them sizzling and the tingling in his chest and fingers – now he isn’t that sure anymore.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>W… What?” He rasps, brain not quite functioning properly. “Hyung.” Youngjae’s white stained fingertips graze his upper arm. He’s leaning even closer. “I want you to look at me the way you look at your paintings.” Jaebum’s breath stutters, his mind spins. For the past weeks he quite successfully fought the naughty thoughts he had about Youngjae, </span><span>semi-effectively</span><span> suppressing the urge to jerk off to the image of his perky butt in those ridiculous shorts and golden reflections on his tanned skin against the white beach sand.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>And now that the summer vacations are nearing their end he was positive that he’d make it through without an incident. But with Youngjae that close and that intense look in his eyes and the quiet dark voice, he doesn’t see any possible outcome that’ll leave him unharmed. “Let me be your canvas.” He’s so close now that Jaebum can feel his warm breath tickling his face as he speaks. “Paint me.”</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum might be suffocating on his own tongue, breaths getting stuck in his throat. Has Youngjae planned this? Is he shitting him? Teasing him? He imagines the mischievous glint in his eyes that he seems to carry at all times, despite it being entirely harmless. He’s too pure to ever betray someone for anything worse than a candy bar. </span>
  <span>He wouldn’t try to expose him like this, would he?</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He feels Youngjae’s hand curl around his </span>
  <span>right</span>
  <span> wrist, gentle but firm and he doesn’t resist when it’s being lifted up and moved to the side, until he’s startled by the wetness he feels against his palm, cool and gooey. In any other situation he’d be upset, Youngjae having placed his hand right onto his palette, completely messing up the colors and smearing them all over his palm. And in the same determined, forward motion Youngjae lifts it back up, still holding him by the wrist, unbothered by Jaebum’s flinch and the next thing he knows is his whole hand pressed down on Youngjae’s thigh.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His own gasp has him choke, he feels his eyes grow wide and his hand tingles, a sensation that travels from his wrist all the way up his arm and down his back. He stares at the back of his hand, green and blue and yellow squeezing out between his fingers splayed against the even surface of Youngjae’s skin, his hand still curled tight around his wrist and the play of colors is as breathtaking as the feel. The sticky paint a border between them, but nonetheless can he feel the heat underneath and the softness of the flesh.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae’s arm moves, makes him move along, not down to his knee, but up, further up, so far that his pinky bumps against the hem of his tiny shorts and he smears a trail of colors </span>
  <span>in its wake</span>
  <span>, mixing and tangling and those really are his homebody-pale fingers against the beach-tan of Youngjae’s perfect skin and a </span>
  <span>chaos of colors</span>
  <span> that Youngjae asks to paint on him and Jaebum almost loses it.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He wants to take his hand away, because he can barely take the thrumming of his heart, but Youngjae holds it tightly and then Jaebum remembers to look at him, because he was hypnotized by the play of sunrays reflecting off the pretty colors and he almost regrets it, because whatever he reads in Youngjae’s blown pupils, blown despite the bright sun, if it isn’t desire he doesn’t know.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His hand is shaking where its sitting locked against the squishy </span>
  <span>paint</span>
  <span> and squishier flesh and his voice comes out broken. “It’s… not safe…” He breathes out almost too quiet. “</span>
  <span>The paint, -not… Don’t</span>
  <span>” It’s true, but it’s probably not what Youngjae wanted to hear. Whatever he</span>
  <span>
    <em> does</em>
  </span>
  <span> want to hear. </span>
  <span>It’s not what Youngjae needs to hear either, or what Jaebum really needs to say.</span>
  <span> Would </span>
  <span>he</span>
  <span> want to draw patterns on Youngjae’s naked body, worship his skin and </span>
  <span>
    <em>mess it up</em>
  </span>
  <span>? Yes, he would. But that’s not what Youngjae is talking about, is it?</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He doesn’t seem to care about the rejection at all. “Then find something else to color me with.” He murmurs and he cocks his head to the side, exposing the expanse of his neck, a beautiful, perfect curve that Jaebum has stared at and dreamed about more than once. “I like red.” He adds and he leans closer (How is that even possible still?) until his nose almost brushes Jaebum’s cheek and his neck is so, so close to his </span>
  <span>face</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>How else is this supposed to be understood? He thinks, virtually unable to move. He thinks of any reason for someone to stick their neck into someone </span>
  <span>else’s</span>
  <span> face and he fails miserably to come up with anything that is moderately decent. “Hyung…” Youngjae breathes right in his ear. “Don’t leave me hanging.” His voice changes significantly. “Please don’t tell me I’ve misinterpreted the way you look at me…” He moves his head back and their eyes meet. Jaebum panics. He noticed? He saw his gaze linger, didn’t he? On the curve of his hips, the length of his legs, his sun-kissed skin?</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>Focus on me.” Youngjae interrupt his thoughts. “Do this for me, Hyung.” He whispers pressingly. “Make me a piece of art. So I’ll remember you.” Jaebum exhales a shaky breath. “You are…” He admits, not really knowing what he’s doing, but he’s been longing to say it. To just screw it all and tell Youngjae how beautiful he is. How much he </span><span><em>wants</em></span><span>. “You’re already perfect.” He mutters defeated. Youngjae’s fingers squeeze tight around his wrist. “Make me better.” He insists. “Make me </span><span><em>yours</em></span><span>.”</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum leans in like in trance, but Youngjae does too, like he did earlier with his neck bared and his head stretched and as they move closer to each other synchronously, Jaebum’s lips bump against the expanse of Youngjae’s neck and he shudders from the impact, too sudden and too involuntary. “Paint me in </span>
  <span>
    <em>your </em>
  </span>
  <span>colors.” Youngjae’s fluttering breath ghost down his neck and tickling his ear and Jaebum just snaps.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He parts his lips like on instinct and at the first shallow taste of Youngjae’s skin he already knows that he’s going to be addicted to it, dragging the tip of his tongue against the warm surface, smooth and salty. He can hear his gasp against his ear, feel the shiver of his body and sense the tensing of his muscles and it seems like it’s just everything Jaebum ever wanted.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He cups his mouth over the spot of skin and begins sucking gently and he can’t remember when Youngjae put his other hand on his arm, but he feels it tighten then, right above his elbow and by now it’s all the encouragement he needs. He sucks harder and against his ear, into the quiet sounds of crashing waves and rustling sand, Youngjae </span>
  <span>
    <em>whimpers</em>
  </span>
  <span>. Jaebum’s mouth plops off when he gasps and if his pants weren’t busy tightening around his crotch before, now they sure are as a spike of arousal floods his system </span>
  <span>from his ear all the way down his body until his toes curl</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Like a mad man he sets his lips back down, the skin already wet with his saliva and his teeth graze the surface when he does, pulling another fresh noise from Youngjae’s throat. He hears it and he feels it under his mouth and he sucks again, harder. His head feels light, delirious in a way and he </span>
  <span>seems</span>
  <span> far from the only one. Youngjae’s hand wandered up his arm until it could wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, pressing him tighter against his neck.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum mildly wonders if this is real, if this is actually happening, but he has no time to dwell, because Youngjae also shifts, squirming where he sits and his fingers still tightly locked around his wrist. He pulls at his hand, further up, further in and only when he squeezes his thighs together and they press tightly against his hand Jaebum realizes how far between them his hand was dragged. His hand. Locked between Youngjae’s sinful thighs. If he moves it, just a little, he would be touching his privates. Even on the hottest day of his vacation, when the sun was relentless and the air still he hasn’t felt this hot. This sweaty and stuffed. And it doesn’t get better, because when his fingers squeeze the giving flesh under his palm and his mouth sucks harder, Youngjae moans.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum freezes. It feels inappropriate. It feels as if he’s not supposed to hear this. This can’t be alright. But Youngjae doesn’t seem to want to grant him his hesitation at all. Because he wiggles his hand away and like on instinct Jaebum wraps it around his waist, lips pressed motionless against his neck still and then, with a suppressed sound </span>
  <span>Youngjae</span>
  <span> swings his leg up and over </span>
  <span>hi</span>
  <span>s thigh, knee hitting the porch as his body follows and in a swift, powerful motion, Youngjae pulls himself into his lap. He moans again upon the contact, as their privates are pushed together and a shiver goes through Jaebum’s body and he’s sure he would have made a sound too, if his lips weren’t so tightly connected to Youngjae’s neck.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>A hand cards into his hair, another one claws into his shirt on his back and Youngjae doesn’t even attempt to sit properly, pressing his lower body against him in a way that it creates a deliciously tight space against the bulge forming in Jaebum’s shorts. And Youngjae’s. He’s certain. He’s certain he can feel Youngjae’s member grow against him. Is he turned on? Does Jaebum turn him on? Him? He means to gasp for air, but as he does, a shaky, needy sound escapes that surprises himself and probably Youngjae too, because his blunt nails dig into his scalp painfully. Not that he minds.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He presses his lips into the curve under Youngjae’s jaw, an open mouthed sloppy kiss that has his teeth graze his skin </span>
  <span>again</span>
  <span> and Youngjae’s hips jerk forward upon it, most definitely he is hard, pushing against his stomach obnoxiously. Jaebum pulls him down by his hips, makes both of them gasp and his fingertips dig into the soft flesh more harshly than he intended. Youngjae’s body churns and twists and he breathes out a soft “Hyung...” that doesn’t seem to have a</span>
  <span>ny</span>
  <span> specific meaning. But nonetheless has Jaebum latch onto the soft skin of his neck with more fervor, it’s already so wet from his saliva and it slips out of the pull of his mouth, causing him to suck harder. He’s going to leave more than just one or two hickeys if this continues.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Everything’s a little blurry, Jaebum feels so grounded and detached at the same time. He wants to eat Youngjae up, wants to suck on his salty skin until the sun goes down and he wants to feel him close and tight. Feeling him is nothing like watching him, eyeing his curves and fantasizing about the littlest of touches, soft fleeting grazes of his fingertips. Instead his fingers slip down his hips and settle around the flush cheeks of his butt, the fabric of his shorts pulled tight over the sweet flesh underneath and Youngjae pushes pushes pushes against him and holds his head.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum can’t help the way he instinctively keeps squeezing his plush bottom and he wonders, while he closes his teeth around a bone in Youngjae’s shoulder, if he can squeeze hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers on his skin. For a second there, Youngjae loosens the pressure against him, one moment to take a shaky breath before he presses in harder again, on instinct Jaebum’s jaw snaps close and his teeth finally dig in fully, accompanied by a muffled groan. And Youngjae answers. His moan is so out of this world, Jaebum is sure for a moment that this is no longer reality.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>One of Jaebum’s hands wanders up again to Youngjae’s waist, but he slips underneath the shirt this time. The soft skin he finds is so hot and so silky, he immediately becomes addicted, stroking his palm flat up the spine, bunching the shirt over his wrist. Youngjae’s hips are humping against him so shamelessly lewd, it’s a little overwhelming. He needs to back away for a moment, needs to figure out if this is </span>
  <span>legal</span>
  <span>, needs to look Youngjae in the face to reassure him.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae’s rocking does not stop, but slows significantly when he does, detaches his mouth and pulls back to find his eyes. He shudders when they find him, glazed over and hooded and his lush lips form around words that don’t make any sound and Jaebum doesn’t understand them. Red spots are already forming in the crook of his neck where his mouth has worked shamelessly and they bloom on his tan skin so beautifully.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae follows his gaze and his hand detangles from his hair to reach up to his throat and touch the damp skin. It looks forbidden how his handsome fingers glide over the darkening bruises and even more so when his eyes flutter shut along the way. Something awful crawls up Jaebum’s chest from the depths of his guts until it claws up his throat and spills over his tongue. He growls in want, something he wouldn’t have deemed possible ever in his life, but he’s certain he’s never desired anything as much as he desires Youngjae’s skin </span>
  <span>right in this moment</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He yanks Youngjae’s shirt up, nails dragging along his back and causing him to jerk forward and moan softly, a reaction that has Jaebum’s crotch quiver. Youngjae’s hair gets tousled when Jaebum pulls the shirt off him and throws it away. He has seen him shirtless many times, but he always tried not to look too much. Tried not to get lost in the play of sunlight and gentle shadows rippling when he move</span>
  <span>d</span>
  <span> and fight the urge to squeeze those bulging pecs. Now he can. And he would, if Youngjae’d let him. But he grabs him by the head, with both hands and pulls him back in until their chests bump together. “Hyung.” He breathes into his hair and nothing else.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum’s lips find their way back onto his skin, he kisses down the expanse of his neck softly, listens to choked off noises and suffers underneath Youngjae’s grinding hips. If the space inside his pants wasn’t so tight that it hurts how Youngjae’s bottom squeezes him, he’d probably get off from that. Instead he focuses on the patches of skin on his shoulder that he previously couldn’t reach and his arms tighten around his hot body while he starts sucking eagerly again, spurred on by how pretty he knows it will look when all of his neck and chest will be covered in his hickey and lovebites.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae lets him know he likes it and of all the things going on, it’s probably the most unreal. Not with words, but with soft sighs and suppressed moans. He’s moaning. Youngjae, the secret angel of his filthy fantasies and it has Jaebum shake with want. He ducks his head down, eager to find more patches of skin to shower with kisses and Youngjae’s head falls back and his chest tilts to allow him to go further and further. It pushes the flesh of his delicious bottom further onto Jaebum’s crotch as he leans back, making him groan against the skin somewhere below his collarbone.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum can’t keep doing this. He’s never in his life been this aroused. It takes some shifting and grunting and Youngjae whining quietly, but eventually he pushes him off his lap and as carefully as possible lets him sink to the ground. It was meant to be a relief, reducing the pressure against his erection, but Youngjae’s barely clothed, perfect body, shimmering with sweat and his own excessive saliva and his dark hair sprawled against the wooden boards… It just has his cock twitch from the sight alone.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae blinks at him and he doesn’t even play shy. He lifts a hands, the same that has been playing with his hickeys before and slides it down his chest all the way to his waistband and then he cups his crotch and his shorts are so thin and tiny and he’s at least as hard as Jaebum feels. In a rush of adrenaline Jaebum groans and bends down, pressing his raw lips to one of his pecs and buries his teeth in the flesh. Youngjae yelps, but his back arches against him and his fist slams against the ground.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>When he releases it, he can see the faint imprints of his own teeth and it turns him on even more. To the point where he decides to abandon his chest for now, because there’s a part of Youngjae’s body he desperately needs to color and he doesn’t know how long he will be able to keep going. H</span>
  <span>e </span>
  <span>licks down the middle of his chest and stomach and finds his hips squirming desperately when he reaches his waistband. Tempting, but he leaves the shorts where they are for now and scoots back, shoving his hands underneath his knees to prop them up.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae’s left leg is a mess of blue and yellow paint and he doesn’t fancy to get poisoned, so he turns the other way and finally allows his lips to connect with the deliciously plump flesh of his thigh. He feels his muscles tense and on top of that Youngjae rewards him with an overwhelmed noise that goes straight to his dick. Youngjae’s skin tastes of sweat and sunlight and he puts a great deal of effort into covering as much of it as he can in reddish bruises and when he let’s his teeth graze, he can see in the corner of his eye that Youngjae presses his palm down against his erection.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>If he could eat him, Jaebum would, digging his teeth into the skin and allowing the arousal to cloud his senses, surrounded by his scent and taste while listening to Youngjae’s strained vocals, voicing what he perceives to be pleasure. His shorts are too tight and the wooden porch painful against his knees, but if he has this one chance to cover this perfect body in as many marks as he can muster, he’s going to make use of it. Ignoring the ache in his legs, he digs his teeth into the flesh harder, determined to leave distinguishable imprints of his teeth and maybe he’s a little bit out of it.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>But Youngjae </span>
  <span>
    <em>asked</em>
  </span>
  <span> for it, and he doesn’t stop him, he shudders and curls under his touch, too perfect to even be real. Jaebum’s tired mouth inadvertently ended up on the inside of his tanned thigh, dangerously high up and he moves closer and closer until his cheeks bumps against his balls, reminiscent of how Youngjae squeezed his hand between his legs and he moans again, less suppressed than before. </span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He licks and bites up until underneath the scanty hem of his scanty shorts, until half of his face presses into Youngjae’s crotch. It’s not fair, but he does not even have tanlines. He told Jaebum that he tends to sunbathe naked in his backyard and it’d taken him all of his self-control to ban that image from his mind. He feels Youngjae’s hips squirm and the plush of his thighs squeezes against his head as he traps him between them. It just got another 50° hotter </span>
  <span>and he lacks enough air to breathe, fighting against the will to suffocate locked between Youngjae’s thighs.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>When he tilts his head, his lips involuntarily find </span>
  <span>Youngjae’s</span>
  <span> fingers where he’s still palming and rubbing himself through his shorts. </span>
  <span>He plants kisses on them </span>
  <span>because it feels like the right thing to do, or maybe just because he wants it, but it allows him to feel how they tense and how Youngjae squeezes himself, while he moans and his thighs rub the side of Jaebum’s head. The heat spreads all throughout his body and has him twitch inside his pants. He fights a hand free and grabs Youngjae’s, squeezing his fingers and pulling it to the side to press his open mouth to the bulge in his shorts. It’s a bit awkward, everything so tight and confined, their entangled hands nudging the side of his face and Youngjae’s legs wrapped around him, but it feels </span>
  <span>
    <em>right</em>
  </span>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum ignores how sore his lips feel by now, licking and bunching the rough fabric under his mouth, thrilled by how Youngjae’s hard cock twitches and throbs underneath. He maps it out with his tongue, listens to the serenade of moans that vibrate from deep in Youngjae’s chest </span>
  <span>and relishes in the fact that he of all people is allowed to be so intimate with a person and beautiful and otherworldly as Youngjae, determined to make the most of it, to give it his all in some way or another.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Youngjae’s muscles tense, his hips meet his face with urgent pressure, sounds of pleasure rolling off his tongue so easily. Jaebum pushes feverishly against the hardness under his tongue, the shorts fabric rough and damp and with every cell of his own body feels Youngjae shudder. His tightening hips lift off the ground and push against him and he moans, he moans so beautifully Jaebum is sure no melody in the world will ever be that perfect and in harmony.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>The high that is so intense even if it’s not his own has him forget about everything else for a bit, allows him to relish in a soft glow of satisfaction, littering gentle kisses all over Youngjae’s crotch and back down to his thigh that he so neglectfully abandoned until his legs release the tension and fall back into place and his hand slides out of his to the ground.</span>
</p><p class="western"><span>When Jaebum </span><span>eventually does sit up,</span> <span>more in order to finally relief the pressure between his legs, he shivers violently over the picture that unfolds. It’s his first full look at what he caused. What he did. What he </span><span><em>made</em></span><span>. Youngjae looks so soft against the hard wood of the porch, now that the tension left and the l</span><span>ate afternoon</span><span> sun casts golden lines on his precious skin. And dark and red bruises bloom down the expanse of his neck and speckle his thigh. </span><span>The wetness on the front of his shorts forms a dark patch on the fabric. </span><span><em>I did that</em></span><span>. His lizard brain keeps telling him and it fills him with misplaced pride and possessiveness that he’d be ashamed for is he wasn’t so horny and so far gone.</span></p><p class="western">
  <span>He tears his pants open, groaning desperately when the tightness is relieved </span>
  <span>after all this time and it doesn’t help how Youngjae blinks up at him softly. Youngjae was far away from being a blank canvas, he realizes as he grabs himself and yet he allowed him to play his magic and paint him in patterns of lust and pleasure. He squeezes his neglected length and feels it throb in his palm under the sudden pressure of attention and he moans, probably louder than Youngjae has all this time. </span>
</p><p class="western">Jaebum isn’t sure what to do. He wishes Youngjae would touch him, but he doesn’t think he has the right to ask. Neither can he stop jerking himself urgently, because he’s been hard for so long and because the view is the most erotic he’s ever had, even including everything his incognito browser has seen. Youngjae’s full lips taunt him with a smirk, Jaebum’s hand speeds up. Pleasure grips him tightly and it’s then that Youngjae leans up onto his arm, just enough that he can reach out and place his hand on top of his own. Jaebum’s shudders, mouth falling open in a moan as heat coils furiously in his guts.</p><p class="western">Youngjae’s eyes pierce through his entire being as his lips move. “Paint me.” He whispers and Jaebum unravels in an explosion of colors as his world falls out of order. He shudders violently, boiling over and empties himself in long spurts that tear him apart, coming shamelessly on Youngjae’s golden skin. He feels like curling in on himself, arousal and desire that are far more than just physical when he watches his own mess draw white streaks and speckles on his stomach, indeed painting him and if it isn’t his prettiest color.</p><p class="western">He’s fighting for breath, so tightly wrapped in his own obsessive mind, mesmerized by the beauty, the masterpiece that is bronze skin and white paint, like the foam on the ocean waves.</p><p class="western">The noise in his ears quiets down and makes space for the soothing sounds of summer that he has come accustomed to and he sits and stares and evens his breathing. Everything around him is warm, the air and the quiet and Youngjae’s hand still holding his while his art turns translucent and finally allows him to break out of his haze. His eyes travel up and find Youngjae’s, endlessly soft and deep and he is smiling, not his taunting smirk, but a soft, gentle, even smile that settle’s his heart back into a quiet pace.</p><p class="western">He finally removes their hands from his long soft member, hesitant, but eventually unable to stop himself from reaching out and tracing his fingers over Youngjae’s stomach, drawing invisible patterns with his fingertips. He feels and watches his muscles flex under his touch, mesmerized by every little thing that makes Youngjae. Who gets a hold of his arm and pulls himself up until he is sitting, his legs a little weirdly dangling over his thighs, but Jaebum can’t dwell on it because it results in their faces being so close as they were earlier when Youngjae first asked him for… attention.</p><p class="western">The bruises Jaebum caused are so brightly visible on the side of his neck, but for once that’s not what demands his attention. Because Youngjae is still looking at him and he’s so pretty and his parted lips are shining in the yellow sunlight, the sun sitting so low that the canopy can’t keep them in the shadows anymore. Jaebum lifts his hand up and palms Youngjae’s cheek, fully aware of stickiness that he brings along with that, but he doesn’t shy away and when Jaebum drags his thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes fall shut and he leans in and finally they bridge the remaining distance and meet in each other in a kiss.</p><p class="western">Jaebum’s heart flutters when their lips find together, not more than a gentle press, a painful opposite to the urgency with which Jaebum’s lips explored every other part of Youngjae’s body. He tastes the salt when their lips moves and slide together wetly and Jaebum cards his hand into Youngjae’s hair, cradling the back of his head and pulling him closer. Youngjae tilts his head willingly and as his arms wrap around Jaebum’s shoulders his lips part and make him shudder when their tongues meet. It’s not as dirty or urgent or sexual as is could be, not in the soft afterglow of what they’ve already done. But it elicits goosebumps on Jaebum’s neck nontheless, makes his skin tingle with a different kind of excitement and desire. A desire for intimacy and closeness.</p><p class="western">Jaebum doesn’t know how long it lasts. How long they kiss, a recurring up and down of sweetness and sexuality. With the soothing sound of the crashing waves and the sunlight turning orange over the water it feels like time doesn’t matter. Youngjae climbed into his lap the same way he did earlier, but this time it’s not urgent or sensual the way their bodies press together and they settle into a comfortable position that Jaebum could stay in for another day or hundred. They share their warmth, their breaths and it feels utterly comfortable. Youngjae’s soft lips move lazily, but sweet and Jaebum keeps his arms tightly wrapped around him.</p><p class="western">He only gets torn out of his daze by the distinct sound of a car rolling up the gravel pathway to the house. Youngjae’s mouth breaks away from him and he hates it, but he understands it. His golden cheeks are slightly flushed and his lips are puffy red and swollen. Jaebum wants to chew them. “I should go.” Youngjae’s soft voice lets him know and he nods, even though he doesn’t really agree. Still he allows him to wiggle out of his arms and scramble to his feet. Jaebum stares at his naked skin the way he now knows is okay when it wasn’t before. The bruises have gotten even darker than they were before. Youngjae acknowledges his gaze with a taunting curl of his wet lips. He tucks a lose strand of hair behind his ear, grazing past the almost visible streak Jaebum left there. After he picks up his shirt and throws it on, unable to hide any of the marks that Jaebum caused -not accounting for the dried cum on his stomach that is-, he slides his elegant fingers along the hickey on his neck.</p><p class="western">“I’m going to have to take photos of it at home.” He says dreamily. “Then <span>I do have a picture to remember you by.” And </span><span>just like</span><span> that he turns around, jumps off the porch and trots away through the white sand across the beach, leaving Jaebum behind, speechless and with the mental image of him lying on his bed and snapping pictures of his bruised thighs.</span></p><p class="western"><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="western"><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="western"><br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>Jaebum’s hand is a little shaky as his brush glides over the canvas in front of him. The speakers on the table play relaxing ocean sounds mixed with soft music. He’s been working towards this point for years and even hours in, he questions if it is still too early, if the timing is right. If he’s ready. Maybe he should have waited until he has his degree. He stares at the colors slowly building up and replacing the white of the canvas. He paints soft shapes and sun-kissed skin and decides there is no turning back.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He’ll allow himself this one try. This one attempt to bring the image, forever burned into his mind to life. Years of practice, lessons, broadening his repertoire and challenge after challenge. None has proven as difficult as this one, because he’s not painting realism. He’s painting a dream, a fantasy and no model but his memory. Blurry from the time passed, but forever in his mind.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>He doesn’t realize how the time passes, how the playlist reaches its end and comes up anew on repeat. He dips his brush into the white paint. Nothing he can conjure onto a canvas will ever be able to live up to the dream-like reality that burned into his mind so many years ago.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>But when he finally sets his brush down and allows his eyes to wander over the picture his heart tumbles in joy. So much time he spent finally learning to paint people. And nobody will ever get to see it, he thinks. His second best work of all times. A reconstruction of the masterpiece he left on Youngjae’s skin so many years ago. It will be only for him to admire.</span>
</p><p class="western">
  <span>His phone tears him out of his trance as it pings through the rustling ocean waves. He picks it up to find a text from his mum. “Are you coming home your last school summer?” She asks. Jaebum ponders for a moment before he responds.</span>
</p><p class="western">“<span>I’ve been thinking of visiting grandma and grandpa </span><span>by the sea</span><span>.”</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry it doesn't have much of THAT.<br/>I really liked the soft summer vibes though.</p><p>Find out what's going on on my <a href="https://twitter.com/totallzlegit"> Twitter</a> and talk to me if you want.<br/>Or if you have questions, requests or need to anonymously yell at me <a href="https://curiouscat.me/totallzlegit/">Find me on CC</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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